


Gave first a look, and then a kiss divine

by catlyson



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23446507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catlyson/pseuds/catlyson
Summary: If there was one thing Yuri was certain about, it was that he had been abandoned.There was no denying that.But if the gods have truly condemned him to die, he might as damn well try his hardest to spite them and their whims.(In which Yuri is an abandoned prince, and Otabek is a reluctant god)Revamped: 08/27/2020
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Kudos: 19





	1. Lost Prince

**Author's Note:**

> The idea came to me one day and I finally got around to writing it down. Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Title is from Leigh Hunt's poem "Bacchus and Ariadne" (1819)

If there was one thing Yuri was certain about, it was that he had been abandoned. 

There was no denying that. 

Dizzy and disoriented, he had sat alone on the beach staring lamely at the empty coast for what felt like a few slow, sluggish, heartbeats, although in reality, the golden hours had slipped past as easily as the shifting sands he was slumped upon. 

What skin he had left exposed to the beating rays of sunlight instead of wrapped in his tunic and shawl had gone from a flushed pink to a painful throbbing red, the tops of his nose and cheeks already beginning to peel themselves into thin papery shreds. 

The leather straps of his bag had imprinted themselves across the palms of his hands after being clenched in a white knuckle grip for too long. 

As Helios finally began his slow descent down the horizon, Yuri could no longer fight the bile creeping up the back of his throat, fingers scrambling for purchase, though there was none offered to him. 

He clamored unsteadily upon his knees and retched, narrowly missing the shawl he had thrown off in the process. 

Head pounding and blinded by nausea, he crawled away from the acidic mess before slumping down, not bothering to stand, knowing his knees would just buckle underneath his body. 

He idly tried to brush off tangled seaweed and wet caked sand that has surely ruined the fine linen of his chiton with its grime, just needing something to do, something to anchor himself from uncertainty. 

His stomach still churned with the same ferocity as the wind that propelled them forward, as if he was still aboard that treacherous ship he could never quite get used to, beads of regret and fear cooling rapidly on his brow in the sea breeze.

He could still smell the charred wood from yesterday’s campfire, the rough wooden handle of the small knife tied to his thigh that he had long flitched from the palace kitchens. 

He finally opened that lonely bag of provisions left behind by that old geezer, or perhaps ~~the fat pig~~ a kind-hearted sailor. 

Lifting the waterskin out to take a drink, he paused. Victor must have spiked his drink yesterday with Valerian root or ground poppy seeds in order to make him sleep so late into the day. 

He uncorked his waterskin, almost ripping the damn cork in half in his struggle to dump its contents onto the sand, grimacing at the puddle of what could very well be his lifeblood eagerly sinking into the thirsty ground. 

He desperately needed more than that sorry sack of an apology if he wanted to survive. 

If the gods have truly condemned him to die, he might as damn well try his hardest to spite them and their whims.


	2. ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps not all of the gods have forsaken him

Alright, perhaps not all of the gods have forsaken him, for, Yuri found shelter further up the beach shortly after his declaration, where a cave had formed on the side of a cliff facing the greenery of the island. 

Perhaps a river, long dried up, used to run through here and into the sea, carving out this little pocket of stone with its waves. 

Whatever the reason, it provided shelter from the wind which was becoming rather cold and biting along with the setting sun, as well as a solid surface to lay upon. 

~~ Which Yuri supposes he should be grateful for. ~~

He shoved the sack into the very end of the cave before wrapping his shawl around himself and settling against it. 

He’ll go find a creek, or at least a brook running through the island that he can use as a water source. 

Trade was rampant between the different kingdoms, so surely, surely, one boat would pass by that he can barter with to take him to Athens. 

Then he’ll rip that smug smile off of Victor’s face, and maybe his crown too. 

Just for good measure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its pretty fun to write from Yuri's perspective because I can basically try to be a bitchy as possible lmfao 
> 
> Let me know what ya'll think <3


	3. Chapter 3

Victor _Fucking_ Nikiforov had done a right job of finding a remote island to dump him on. 

It has been almost a fortnight, and any glimpse of movement he did see about the horizon was the reflection of the clouds whipping past on Boreas’s strong winds or the gleaming underbelly of some lonesome seagull flying overhead. 

There ended up being a small village on the opposite side of the island, where he learned that the island had a name, Naxos. 

The very  _ blessed _ island that had concealed Zeus himself during his childhood. 

That he had just  _ happened _ to get washed up upon. 

Could Victor be any less conceited about his own lineage?

He screamed in his head as he was given a grand tour by the locals, swiftly passing by the homes and a lively marketplace until they reached the prized jewel of the people-

Yuri's thoughts hushed for a moment as he stared at the beautiful bay in quiet wonder. 

The warm honey and amber colors of tile roofs gave way to shimmering sands, where the sea had warped and softened the edges of the island to resemble a loaf of bread pulled fresh out of the oven. 

The long stretch of white stone they had hewed in front of the island made it look as though the island was Olympus itself, floating high up in the blue heavens and only reachable through the divine path up Mount Vesuvius. 

The sea certainly did its job rivaling the sky with the bright clear azure of its shores, where the vividness and depth of color seemed impossibly close to perfection. 

Poseidon’s labour of ~~spite~~ love no doubt. 

Gleeful squeals broke Yuri from his train of thought and he turned his head to watch a group of children as they splashed each other in the shallow waves and squabbled over toys, while watchful parents looked on while fishing or bartering over wares. 

The patchwork of dancing shadows and bright flashes of toys, lovingly painted and decorated with scrap fabric brought on an unwelcome lump in Yuri’s throat.

He had done that once, too. Sailed little toy boats in the palace garden with his siblings, wasting precious memories fighting over what was plentiful. 

But the sweetness from those memories had fluttered away lifetimes ago with his childhood, leaving only bitterness in its wake. 

Yuri grit his teeth, begrudging compliments having shriveled up in his throat and died on the tip of his tongue.

Turning around from the cliff's edge, he smiled at his guide and asked if he could kindly be offered a place to rest. 

He almost stumbled across the worn stone of the courtyard, phantom laughter ringing loudly in his ears as a new thought arose, sickening him to the core. 

_ Oh gods, I will never escape. _


	4. Lament

However kind the locals were to Yuri, it was evident that they were frightened of him, or rather, what he represented. 

With his gleaming golden hair and spring green eyes that were unmistakably  _ Titan _ in design, Yuri was a glaring threat to not only their peaceful way of life but to Zeus and his uneasy crown. 

Something the great and decidedly un-magnanimous  _ King of The Gods _ , well, hated.

In all of his fury over his abandonment, Yuri had forgotten that he took after his mother almost too well, a daughter of the sun. 

That in fact he and all his siblings looked decidedly  _ unnatural _ compared to other children on Crete, or even other demigods. 

From what Yuri could tell from the stories he had wheedled out of Yakov, time hasn’t mellowed his decidedly more godly grandfather or made him any less cruel.

He could surely decimate Naxos for something as petty as disrespecting progeny he has never even laid eyes upon or cared about, if it could sully his name or reputation. 

He had thanked the villagers for their hospitality and the provisions they had pressed into his arms, grimly observing shaking hands and cowered heads.

He tried to politely decline their offers for shelter, opting to go back to his little cave away from whispers and prayers and fearful glances, but of course they could not let that pass,  _ damn Helios and his wrath _ . 

Yuri now sat on the bed he had been given and raked a hand through his hair, unraveling the simple braid he had secured his hair with, making little wisps float down around his face. 

Damn it. 

He should have known better than to trust the word of a  _ demigod _ and waste his talent and adoration on someone who would forget that love as soon as he laid eyes on another, more star-struck, doe-eyed, and pliable to his every whim and fancy than Yuri himself could and would ever allow himself to be. 

Although, he could imagine how the fat pig would make quite the delicious spectacle on the deck of the ship when he finds out Victor had abandoned his friend and ‘master’ as an early wedding present. 

For Yuuri had been gifted to him as a slight from his  _ kingly _ father who thought it would be amusing for his useless and unwanted son to own a servant with the same name as his. 

However much of a notoriously heavy sleeper and eater he was, Yuuri had kindness running through his veins and loyalty etched in his bones. 

The only thing that kept Yuri and his sanity surviving throughout the years of crawling at his father's feet with honeyed smiles and humbled words. 

A debt he could never repay. 

He could understand being left alone once they reached Athens, having spent a fortnight watching the lovesick pair make mooneyes at each other. 

Watching as the marks on Yuuri’s neck practically multiplied themselves every morning, creeping higher and higher so that they could no longer be hidden in the folds of his chiton. 

Of course not to mention the fact that Yuri had, knowingly and outright betrayed his father by helping Victor slay his utmost prized possession, his beastly son who deserved respite from his painful existence. 

His brother, who knew no other companion in life but hunger and fear. 

Another short footnote in his father's tale, just like Yuri himself. 

Perhaps he wouldn’t even make it into the scrolls of history, for there were certainly enough siblings to write about without him. 

Besides, who would want to grace their family tree with a kinslayer. 

He was company which Victor or any prince should be abhorrent to keep.

But Yuri had a plan! 

You see, he would sell his golden locks at the marketplace or be hired as an actor, coaxing drachma after drachma out of customer's pockets with his beauty and charm until he could ensnare some high ranking official as his lover. 

He certainly had the talent and the looks for it. 

But to be left alone to die on the shores, cast away like some careless child’s toy. 

He is still a prince! 

He is the grandson of Nikolai, the greatest king Crete- no Greece has ever seen! 

He gave up his birthright to save innocent children, and this, this is his payment in kind!?

The last shreds of shock that had smothered him like a woolen blanket for the past days fell away, giving way for anger, hungry and gnawing at his very soul.

Yuri couldn’t stop the hot tears sliding down his cheeks as he picked up a hairbrush he had been gifted and hurled it out the window towards the waves with all the rage he had. 

It barely made a splash. 


End file.
